Anniversary Update

On the longest day of the year of 2013, our intrepid adventurer set forth on a cross country trek.  Her Penske was packed with memories, regrets and 9 cats.  Her heart, heavy; her soul, saddle sore. With a Solstice moon and a concerned mother to lead her, she spent 5 long days putting miles between her latest failure and her heart-sick self. Meaning that one year ago TODAY, she arrived in North Carolina to begin her "new life."

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I'd love to tell you that every day since then has been positive, that I'm healed and happy.  But I like to keep this blog an actual representation of my life, not a flowery illusion of what I'd like my life to look like.  And recovery takes time...  three steps forward, two steps back.  Behavioral tendencies that have lasted a lifetime don't get suddenly retrained in a month.  Back-slides happen, patterns repeat.  Auto-pilot is a dangerous way to drive through life, but it's damn easy to slip into.

Then again, I've always been my toughest critic... so let me take a moment to focus on the positive.  I AM DOING IT.  Every morning I get up, whether I write in a journal, take a long hike in the mountains, show up  at my job, or pay off a little more debt, I am taking a step on this new path.  Building a new foundation takes an irritatingly long time, especially when you start deeply in a hole (emotionally and financially) as I did.  But the key is showing up, and I'm still doing that.

I'm learning to listen to and trust my intuition again.  I'm still not great about taking action in accordance with the little voice in my head, but at least I've stopped dismissing it.  My faith in my gods is shaken and distant, but I still have an altar.  After weeks of feeling stuck, yesterday I took the time to change out all the candles and incense, switching from woodsy dusky scents to bright florals and fruits, and WHAM suddenly I could smell the arrival of Summer in my home.  For a moment, my heat and passion were re-ignited along with candle wicks, and I went to bed with a sense of hope instead of with a body weary from dread and resignation.

Today, I'm working a half-day, so I have the morning to drink a hot cup of tea, snuggle with the kitties, center myself and reflect.  I can hear the wind outside shaking the multitude of vibrant green leaves in my front yard.  I will fold the clean laundry, and sort out which bills can be paid out of the paycheck that comes tomorrow. I will try to put together a list of the ways in which my life is better than it was a year ago.

I cry less.  That's a start.
I'm surrounded by kindness.  That's good too.
I can breathe in moist, clean air, juicy with the smells of raw nature.  That always make me smile.

Los Angeles is like that friend we all have.... the one talks a little too loud, who takes a little too much energy.  The one who always makes the conversation about her, but then leaves you to pick up the lunch tab.  And yet, now that she is missing from my life, I find she has left a hole there is no filler for.

The High Country however, is a wall flower.  Prettier than she realizes, she sits quietly along the sidelines of the gym dance and waits for you to initiate contact.  She's hard to get to know, but if you can get her talking in a one-on-one conversation, you can watch her eyes light up, be seduced by her soft giggle, and realize there's a lot more there than seems at first glance.

Re-reading those descriptions, I realize that I'm a lot more LA than I ever will be North Carolina.  I'm pretty sure this is only a temporary destination for me, a rest stop on the highway where I refuel and recover, but while I'm here, I'm striving to make friends with the shy girl, learn what I can from her secrets, heal the wounds I acquired living in the flashy big city.  There's a gentleness here that allows time for recovery, and if I can just drop into that slow, Southern rhythm, I just might be able to be compassionate and patient with my own learning curve.

One year later, I'm not where I wanted to be.  I'm not where I thought I would be.  But I'm not dead... not even overwhelmed right now.  Just moving slowly forward.  It's a quiet anniversary, but it is not a sad one.

A Lone Reflection

a·lone:  adj  Separated, apart or isolated from others

lone·ly  adj  Affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome.

Alone is a state of being.  Lonely, a state of mind.   They should be easy to differentiate between.  They should be two separate things.  But sitting here, on the ending side of a 6+ year relationship, I cannot always find a way to separate the two.  

This time last year, I had completed the Spartan Sprint in Malibu, and felt empowered and invigorated.  This Saturday and Sunday, that race once again took place, but I could not participate.  I needed to work and make money, but to be very honest, it is more the fact that I cannot yet run it without him, and I'm certainly not in the place to run it with him (even though he participated both days and invited me along.)

I lost a lot of myself over these last years.  I feel like a shell of the vibrant girl I once was.  Reading some of this blog's archives, I hear her sweet laughter and confidence bubble forth through her tales, but she seems a stranger to me now.  Where once, I dreamed of being unattached, proud of my independence, now I sit in a dark quiet room with cats and a computer for company and I dread the empty silence.

I do have moments.  Crystalline insights and moments of connection where I feel that vibrancy start to cut through the clouds.  This morning, I was feeling exhilarated and alive as I drove to work, promising myself that the worst of the darkness was passing and that I was well on my way to survival.  But somewhere, in the dreary smallness of my day, amidst forced holiday retail cheer and a million commercials about kissing and "forever love", the bubble burst and the tears and confusion settled in like the storm outside.

I used to be ok being "alone", but I have not yet conquered the deamons that accompany "lonely."

So here I am, trying to connect with my age old touchstone, writing.  Perhaps this blog and I will once again be on regular conversational terms.  Perhaps I will return to my keyboard and let my fingers express the snippets of thoughts as they pass through my cluttered brain, purging feelings and fears, hopes and heartbreaks, leaving what is no longer needed here on the page.  Perhaps bit by bit, I'll uncover that courageous girl with the sparkling giggle and a glint of hope in her eyes.  And with her for company, how can anyone feel lonely?/ˈloʊn li/ Show Spelled

Pondering Past Thoughts

So much has been happening in my life lately, and it caused me to reflect on a post I wrote back in 2005. So I went serching through a million locked down livejournal posts till I found it.

Heroines for the 21st Century
written March 8, 2005

Motivated by my own comment to mamaluna about the new breed of Amazons.... i sought some guidance/comfort in the wisdom of the tealeaves.

Reading No. 16
Every man's life is a fairy tale, written by God's fingers. ~ Hans Christian Anderson

You are the hero of your own life, not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be lived. It's not the agony of the quest, but the rapture of the revelation

My own hero..... my own true Amazon warrior (with 2 whole breasts). Can it be a call I answer happily? Rise to the occassion and embrace? I see all these wonderfully empowered women, each of us smart and savy. Able to look at what is going on around us and say "This works" or "This is unhealthy, and I don't want to play that game anymore." We are healing and moving forward at what soemtimes seems to be a lightening fast pace..... and while we have each other, we simply cannot find a "partner" that will move at that pace with us.

Perhpas it's not meant to be. I've theorized before that as the human race moves forward, we step further and further away from monogomy (a state i believe has been trained into us by society and is not genetically what we are designed to do). Perhaps as we leap and bound away from accepted roles of wife and mother, we continue evolution, returning to the warrior state.

You know, all i've read by the modern gurus & elevated minds, they talk about the higher self, being a being of love..... but they don't really focus on marriage, or even life long partnership. There is an element of Bhuddism that seems to be the enlightened but unattached state. Unattached to material things, unattached to wants and desires. And what is a life long relationship, if not built (on some level) by wants and desires.

which takes me back to my longing for a new Avalon, for convent life..... unattached to the material, embraced only by spirituality.... tending gardens for the goddess.... each silent day a testimony to balance and bliss.

can we be on the path, returning to the Temple Priestess.... sacred in body and mind. sexual, sensual, yet sacred? Unhampered by earthy drama. And if that's where this is headed, then I shouldn't be upset by it. I should embrace it. Dance with it. Rise above the daily bullshit and see that this is the path put in front of me, and walk it with dedication and joy.

Alone,
Unhampered
Unattached

A Spartan Thanks

Yesterday, I ran The Spartan Sprint. This is not the place to go into what it is, or why I ran it. No, this is a letter to a single woman whom I encountered.

Dear Spartan,
You may not remember me. I am quite sure that I did not factor into your race the way you factored into mine. I was the woman sitting crumpled in the mud at the foot of the last obstacle, crying quietly. You asked if I was ok. I lamely replied, "I'm just tired." It was an excuse befitting a 3-year old child, and I apologize for it. I was not entirely in a clear-thinking place. Had I had more wits about me, I would have said this:

"I'm so goddamn tired... tired of not showing up to my life. Tired of having lofty dreams and goals that I'm too lazy or terrified to pursue with the vigor they need. I'm tired of failing. I did not train for this the way I should have, and yet through some grit and determination, I've made it this far...to the last obstacle. But I'm not sure I can climb this wall. And I'll be dammned if I'll quit within site of that finish line. Each time I rally the physical strength to attempt it, and fail, sliding back down to this muddied grass, I waste precious energy. And I'm not sure where that energy is coming from, or just how much more I have. I'm overwhelmed by the frustration, ashamed that I'm sitting here, and just before you arrived I took a particularly spectacular face and chest plant on the wood that knocked the wind out of me, so I'm in a fair amount of physical pain as well. But all that is nothing compared to the screaming voice in my head that is telling me over and over that I shouldn't have even tried becuase I ALWAYS FAIL. That voice is so loud that I fear you can hear it, even over this cheering crowd."

So thank you Spartan, for being one person out of hundreds who stopped to ask if I was ok. Thank you for taking time out of your experience to check on me. Please excuse me that moment of human fear & frailty. Know that after you left, I took a breath, regrouped and climbed that wall a 3rd and final time, and finished my first Spartan race. I hope your race was an amazing experience. I hope you had fun, but also that you found within yourself a place of power, of strength. I hope you surprised yourself with all you could achieve. I know I did.

Trancendance, Table for One- Part 2

Friday afternoon is light, and I've decided to let myself off the leash again for a lunch moment. I cross the street to a little eatery where the salads are lovely and corners are dark. Here, I can disappear for an hour, and yet never feel any panic about being far from the office.

Over a goat cheese appetizer and tuna salad nicoise, I read about Elizabeth's further adventures in the Indian Ashram. I envy her meditation caves and her silent turets. I wonder how anyone can get close to the divine in this busy madcap world.

That's when a few distinct noises break through my reading focus (a difficult thing to do, for when I read... I block out the world)

The first is a conversation between a waiter trainee and the day manager of the restaurant. They are speaking of "sunday school", of verses and psalms, of religion and teachings and things that ease their hearts.

The second is a line from the song playing on the restaurant's overhead speakers. It is the 70's hit "Rock the Boat".... the line that is instantly absorbed by my consciousness is "love and devoooootion!"

I throw my head back and laugh out loud, aware for a moment that the "all-encompassing divine" is in fact in full force around me. It always is, whether I am in an Indian meditation cave or a North Hollywood restaurant. I just need to be reminded once in while.

In a state of bliss, I finish my lunch.... chuckling and feeling loved.

I'm DEFINATELY making lunch a more regular event.

Trancendance, Table for One

Lunch. It’s an infrequent luxury in my world, and as I walked away from the office today, I actually heard the “Rocky” theme music in my head…. As if unchaining myself from the desk for 60 min were a feat of Herculean proportion.

My intention was to pick up some Taco Bell and drive to a near-by park, where I would read my current obsession, Eat, Pray, Love. I believe that this book was an Oprah recommendation or something similar, and I admit that did not really fill me with confidence that I would find it either inspirational or motivational. However, my dance studio offered it up as the book for discussion one month, and I wanted to have some idea of what people were talking about.

I couldn’t be more pleased that I did. What an amazing discovery!! This book fills me with hope and drive and all things that feel bubble-bath good in one’s soul. It has been a long time since I repeatedly laughed OUT LOUD at a book’s passages, much less chased someone down (usually poor Tag) saying, “Wait… you have to hear this. It’s hysterical.”

Elizabeth Gilbert’s telling of her year long adventures in Italy, India and Indonesia rousts parts of my soul that had settled into the numbness of neglect, giving it both wings, and the urge to fly. It has lightened my heart and filled it with giggly madness and joy. This is the kind of book that poets weep for and established governments should fear, because it cajoles me to be bigger, to be more courageous, to be more alive, to be inspired, invigorated, & ignited into a sacred flame.

As such, I found myself driving past the Taco Bell, and instead to a restaurant (one of my favorites) where I had not been in a long time. There I settled into a table by a sun-heated window, ordered some white wine and a salad, and allowed myself to be indulgent, reading at the table, drinking mid-day, and not keeping any sort of strict eye on the “lunchtime clock”.

While I ate my organic turkey burger and sipped my chardonnay, I found myself entranced by the words on the page. Gilbert’s description of the daily routine of the Ashram is reminiscent of the fantasy I’ve often had about life in a convent, or other spiritual temple. (And yes, I am aware how conflicting that desire is with my inherent inclinations to take long, wine-filled lunch breaks.... bear with me. )

Still, it was all a fairly innocous until I got to the conversation on soul mates:

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, a person who brings you to your own attention, so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too Painful.”

When I finished reading the passage, I had to turn my head towards the window, and stare into the bright California sun, blinking back tears and the gasp that was caught in my throat. It’s not that the words were foreign or some epiphany exploding inside of me. The words were much identical to a conversation I had with a dear friend when I lost my first “soul mate”. But perhaps, because so much time had past, and my heart was miles from hurt, I was able to take those words inside of me as I never had before. There was a sigh of relief from within my soul, and I felt both validated and set free.

There have been a few loves in my life, that when they appeared, I was swept off my feet by the disorienting power they had over me. The signs of the Universe blinked in neon, telling me in no uncertain terms “PAY ATTENTION! This one is VERY important to you.” Those loves were passionate whirlpools of intensity, swirling wildly from indescribable joy to unbearable fury and pain. Those loves were also, oddly enough, the shortest in my history. They swept in, broke through walls, ripped open scabs, spilt their iodine and left without so much as a band-aid in thanks.

And here was a book, years later, confirming that it just might be a part of the bigger plan. *sigh* It was an amazing relief.

I turned from the window, back to the room full of diners and felt… just a little different. The couple at the table next to me received from the waitress two plates of pancakes, and I laughed while crying at the beauty and freedom of that. (I can’t explain what I found particularly moving about it…. Just that I did). There was a brief moment of wondering if I was being watched; if anyone noticed the tears glistening in my eyes, or the smile I couldn’t seem to erase. Just as quickly as that thought appeared, I realized that I couldn’t possibly care. I was in that moment perfect and pure and enjoying a state of amazing bliss.

I finished my glass of wine, paid my bill, and returned to my car. A moment of transcendence, disguised as an everyday meal.

I really should make a point of taking lunch more often.

Limes of Love

The ever-fabulous Amandarin, whose selfless actions brought Tag to my door in June, has once again worked with others to create a generous project of love and giving.

LIME PROJECT is a group of women who have come together to raise funds for a friend, currently fighting Hodgkins Lymphoma.

To quote the website:
We don't know who makes these decisions, but the support ribbon color for Hodgkin's Lymphoma is lime green. Conveniently, this is one of Heather's favorite colors."LimeSuckers" came about because well... pretty much everyone was suckered into it.

Most of us met on LiveJournal, a blogging / networking website, and this idea was hatched there, sprouting from the mind of Bronxelf (also known as Avril), for the group of us to produce and sell calendars to benefit Heather.

Not just any calendars..."naked" calendars. Tastefully done, of course, but still. Cheesecake sells.


That's right kids.... beautiful nekkid women, showing their goodies support for a friend in need.

So dig into your pockets. 2007 is coming, and you need a calendar! Not just one that tells you the days and dates, but one that supports a life AND has bold and beautiful pictures of women not afraid to bare it all to help a friend.

Pay It Forward.... Buy a Calendar!

Saving Private Benjamin

The other night, I was talking to the lovely Shazam, and telling her a brief bit of the jackassery that I have dealt with as of late.

Now, in my telling of the story, I feel I’ve come a long way. I handled the phone call with penache and style. Letting Jackass #312 have his say, but not letting it rile me or cause me strife. This is very different from how it would have affected me this same time last year.

But Shaz listened with the patience of a saint and then said something to the affect of (which is to say, I’m paraphrasing, because I don’t remember the actual words, but I want to convey what I felt I heard) “I want to hear this story when it finally goes like this…. Jackass starts talking, and Teece goes * mimes hanging up the phone. * No listening, no putting up with it.. just hang up. That’s the happy ending I want. You know, like in my story, the happy ending would be the Girl gets the Guy…. Well in your happy ending, you just hang the fuck up on that fucker.”

(right now, let me just say…. This was an awesome conversation with Shaz, and in the end, this is going to be a strong empowered post. So don’t ANYONE read this with ANY thought that Shaz offended me, or that I was annoyed at her comment. Cause I wasn’t!)

I heard in her words strength and concern and a great deal of love and respect for me. But for a moment I had this thought.

“THAT’s MY happy ending?!?!? You get the guy.. everyone else lives happily ever after… and I just get to be righteously mad and hang up?”

I let the moment pass, because again, I knew the healthy place that she was talking from and I get exactly why that ending is happy for the likes of me. But later, it crossed my mind again.

The happy ending at the end of my movie… is me. Just Me.

And I thought, “what kind a fucking movie is that? Who would want to see that shit?”
and then I remembered…
One of my favorite movies.
A movie I watch over and over because I LOVE the last scene… it makes me cry, it makes me laugh, it makes me want to jump up and cheer FUCK YEAH!

Private Benjamin

Yep… anyone else remember? She’s at her own wedding, about to marry a man who, while passionate, has treated her like shit. And on their wedding day, he’s late to the service because he’s (in bed) consoling his ex-girlfriend. And She gets mad about it. And she has a right to. But he belittles her. He treats her as if she should expect no better. He admits to fucking the maid and pretty much anyone else who crosses his path, but adds that when he met her, she was naught but a bimbo, pretty piece of ass who’d leap into bed with whatever took her fancy. He implies that she should consider herself lucky to be able to wed someone like him. And he calls her stupid.

And she takes that moment… that glorious moment… where she doesn’t worry about all the guests who have traveled for the wedding… or the cost of the gown… or the time she’s spent with the man. She takes that glorious moment of realizing that this is that turning point… where you stand up for yourself, or you sell yourself down the river. And she decks him!!

*grin*

and she walks out the front door. She tears off the her bridal vail as her long red hair blows in the breeze… and she marches triumphantly down a tree lined street to some of the best closing credit music I have ever heard.

And you watch her walk away.

And you know she’s going to be alright.

Shaz… thank you! That’s the best goddam ending EVER.

Swirly-gig of life, energy and the pursuit of good food

Life is a roller coaster, is it not?

Busy- ness prevails right now, between 3 jobs and dance class and band rehersal and the fact that i know a TON of Leos, and thus have many birthday gatherings to attend to. Add into that other social occasions, conversations with friends, lunches with co-workers (or lunches with co-workers who are friends and thus filled with aformentioned conversation). Tonight is wine club with the DW's, Sunday the band has a show. All the while i shuttle back and forth between my house and the one in Van Nuys, caring for 5 kitties and a buttload of plants.

but beyond all that, there are moments of sitting, and smiling, and life being very good.

oh sure, i have my moments of painful interactions, miscommunications. They hurt and bother me, but they don't win out. I still have the sound of Amandarin's laughter in my ears as she told me about her fabulous birthday dinner with her reconciled honey. I can see Dreamschool's grin as she listened to live music played at her behest last Friday. I remember the peace of listening to crickets in the backyard full of plants under my care. I look forward to CamShazam's smile tonight at Wine Club. And kitty nuzzles... lots of kitty nuzzles, no matter what house i'm at. (bad grammar, don't care)

Top that with the fact that in the last 36 hours i have had sushi and sake at my favorite Sushi restuarant, Ravioli and mojitos at my favorite local resturant, and a delish gyros for lunch at the perfect "fast Greek food" place near work. I am full and sastfied, in tummy and in soul.

Nil illigitimi non carborundum

(or more accurately Noli nothis permittere te terere.)

Either way, the point is

they do not get to win.